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2013-02-24 Kindness in the City
Winter in the city is a wet affair. At least, this evening it is. Heavy grey clouds obscure the stars, the amber street lamps turning them a burnished, ruddy gold. Though it's not snowing at the moment, there's an ever-present threat of it. The wind is gusting pretty steadily, making the temperature feel about ten degrees colder than it actually is. Walking north along one of the streets leading away from the theatre district, Times Square, and the Port Authority Bus Terminal, a young woman in an oversized brown leather jacket and a grey hood sidesteps a group of laughing twenty-somethings that emerge from one of the tall buildings along the route. She pauses a moment, watching them as they bunch together against the cold and jostle one another like kids on a playground. Her head cants a moment, but whatever contemplation she might have been indulging is cut short as one of the ubiquitos yellow city taxis blazes by... and splashes slush and roadside refuse all over her jeans. "Awk!" She lets out a startled exclamation and shakes the dripping ice off with disgust. "Chort viz'my!" she swears in her native tongue. Whatever she said, it's matched by a sharp, somewhat rude gesture toward the oblivious, departing taxi. She kicks once at a snow pile and retreats back on the sidewalk, closer to the buildings. It's New York. Rude gestures are two a penny...nay, worth far less than that. It's an unpleasant evening indeed, and a teenaged girl...late teens, presumably some kind of intern, comes out of the Stark building, turning down the sidewalk towards where the foreign girl is cursing out the taxi. She's dressed for the weather, a hood pulled up to partially hide her face. It's enough, right now, to avoid any kind of immediate recognition. Unlike Olena, she's walking a little bit in from the gutter in the hope of evading the same fate. Jeans, homemade Hulkling-logo t-shirt, and Captain America t-shirt on, Eddie's in a pretty good mood tonight as he walks down the sidewalk. Humming a tune, he frowns when he sees a taxi splash someone, wincing at the swear. Alien technology lets him understand it as if it were perfect English. Not yet noticing Mend, Eddie frowns a moment and heads over towards Olena. "Excuse m-me," he says, taking a few napkins from his pocket. "Sorry that happened. Taxi drivers c-can be jerks here," he says, offering the napkins to help get slush and water dried. Olena retreats back against the building wall, pausing in her de-slushing dance as Eddie the boy approaches. The other woman, along with various other pedestrians, the whole street of traffic, and a homeless dog looking out of the alley across the street, are in the periphery of her vision, but fully part of her awareness even as she takes quick measure of the boy's offered napkins. Her dark eyes search his face for a moment before she finally relaxes just a hair and accepts them. "Spasybi," she says. Then, translating: "Thank you." She scrubs some of the ice off the outside of a thigh and slaps the rest of it away from her lower leg. "Taxis. Jerks. Da." Her accent is Eastern European. Her language Ukrainian. Marissa Sometimes wouldn't know Ukrainian from Double Dutch, but she makes her way over. "Nobody's polite in New York," she notes in her soft western accent. "There are good things about being here, but that's definitely not one of them." The girl studies the foreigner for a moment, then glances at Eddie...who's wearing superhero shirts. Makes her glad she hasn't used a logo. Most of Eddie's team hasn't used a logo, he just came up with logos for them. He'll get to other heroes eventually. Eddie offers a concerned smile as he waits for Olena to take the napkins, the teen looking about as threatening as a wet kitten. "You're w-w-welcome," he says. "Sorry I don't have anything better than those," he says. When Marissa comes over, Eddie smiles again. "Y-yeah. At least it's not as bad as Gotham though." The sloppy snow and ice is mostly gone, now, though the soaked jeans remain. Olena wipes her hands off on the equally soaked napkins and gives the new woman the same once-over she gave the boy. She gives a wry, humourless smile. "No place is perfect," she replies, her accent heavy though her voice is soft. She looks around for someplace nearby to deposit the napkins, but the closest spot is a bin at the corner so, after a moment's consideration, she balls them up and shoves them in a front pocket. It's not like it's going to make her any more wet. Her head cants slightly, however, in reaction to Eddie's comment. "Gotham," she echoes. Her expression becomes direct, almost intense. "You..." She searches a moment for the right tense and gives up, continuing, "go to Gotham? Is far?" Marissa Sometimes winces. "Last time I was in Gotham somebody tried to mug me. I think they had other things in mind too. They didn't get very far." She shrugs a bit. She had help, but she's not going to admit that. Sometimes it's good to look tough. "You seem kind of...lost." "Yeah...there's lots of crime there b-but there are great heroes like Batman and Nightwing there," Eddie chimes, letting some of that fanboy faith shine through. The question makes him blink and shake his head. "I d-d-don't go often. It is pretty far though," he replies. He nods to what Marissa says though. "D-do you need some help finding some place?" "Lost?" Olena straightens now, her head pushing against the top of her hood for a moment as she rolls her shoulders. She shoves her cold, chapped hands into the pockets of her oversized jacket and shakes her head, expression more guarded than before. "Ni. No. No lost." A hand pops out of the jacket. She gestures lightly to the buildings around. "Is New York, da? Times Square," she thumbs back over her shoulder, then gestures ahead. "Stark Tower. No lost." No, she knows exactly where she is. It may not be where she wants to be, but that's a problem she's still hoping to solve. As for the crime in Gotham... 'Mugging' isn't really a term she's all that familiar with, which is why she largely ignores that part of Marissa's conversation. She gets the point from the fleeting darkness in the other woman's tone and Eddie's confirmation. Superheroes. That, she understands. Even she's heard of Batman -- though perhaps not Nightwing. Her eyes narrow slightly, however, at his question. Not eager to jump out of one fire into another, she hedges. "Finding place. Da." Her smile is tight once more, humourless still. "I have friend there. I would like... visit her." Find her. Rescue her. Get the hell outta Dodge. Except that's beginning to appear a pretty tall order. Possibly beyond her, which is frustrating. "Trip to Gotham cost much?" Her nose wrinkles. "Proklin." Damn. "I only have a motorbike, or I'd offer a ride...but I'd be skinned if I took somebody pillion without a helmet. Pepper would have my head." She flickers a grin. "I need to get a second helmet, I suppose, one of these days." She'd give HER helmet to Olena, as she doesn't need it, but there's little things like laws. And being a good example. "I j-just um...walk places or take the subway," Eddie remarks. "Sorry," he adds. When Marissa mentions Pepper, Eddie looks at her with a little surprise. "You know Ms. Potts too?" he asks. Shaking it off, he looks to Olena again. "Where are you trying t-t-to find? Maybe we can help you find it?" Olena flips a dismissive hand, offering a tight, wry smile to Marissa, recognizing the kindness of the thought. "Is okay. I find way." She glances back and forth between them for a moment, settling on Eddie as his surprise registers. The name 'Ms Potts' means nothing to her. So, again, she ignores that part of the conversation. "Gotham," she repeats in answer to his question. "Is okay. I find way." Her brows have creased, however, and a lock or two of hair falls over her face as she considers her problem. A shiver runs through her, too, the chill from the wet slush starting to set in; it's not like the girl has any meat on her bones to ward it off at all. She shifts from foot to foot in the cold and jams her hands deeply back into her pockets. Marissa Sometimes nods. "Yeah. I do. She has a habit of getting around, doesn't she." A grin for the other teenager. "And lost as in not sure where you're going. I know. I was there once." But she found herself...although she'll never forget the encounter with the woman who tried to recruit her to be a terrorist/activist. Like Highball. "She r-really does," Eddie replies, grinning back. He turns back to Olena and considers her a moment before nodding. "M-maybe you should stop somewhere and g-g-get into warmer clothes before you go. It's supposed t-t-to be cold and rainy tonight," he says, concerned. Olena grows still as she regards Marissa, now. The dog across the street begins to bark at nothing. The Ukrainian gives a mild shrug. "I am going no place." A beat. An ironic smile. "I am sure." She glances to Eddie. A dark brow rises faintly. Her dark eyes scan the street and glance up to the heavy clouds. "Da," she replies, speaking slowly, now. "Is much cold and rain here." A beat. "Is worse at home. Is okay, here." Having no change of clothes, she skates right past that thought. "It IS going to be cold." She'd offer her jacket...she's not that broke...but she doesn't realize that Olena is homeless. Yet. Visiting a friend in Gotham? That's reasonable. Although "Be careful in Gotham. The Bats can't be *everywhere*." Eddie hasn't realized Olena's homeless yet either. He's just trying to be helpful. "B-be careful getting to Gotham. If you t-t-take the high speed rail train it shouldn't be that expensive and they'll let you hang out in the station for awhile. It's a g-g-good place to dry off and get warm," he says. "Batman. In Gotham. Da." Again, Olena's lips twist some. Her expression implies a certain... disdain isn't quite the right word. Perhaps 'disregard' is better. In any case, there's something about her expression that suggests she takes no comfort from the thought of the Caped Crusader -- though whether or not that's personally directed at the hero himself or heroes in general is up for debate. And, truthfully, she'd rather the people she's speaking with not know she's homeless, because the last thing she wants is someone trying to help her return to the house she's escaped. "Where is station?" she asks now. Her stomach growls at that point, interrupting the conversation, but aside from a quick, irritated glance down and an equally quick tug on her jacket to draw it closer around her, she ignores it. "Is far?" Some warmth would be good. "Batman, Robin, Nightwing, Batgirl, Red Robin..." Eddie starts with a few Gotham heroes and then starts listing more until he's mentioned every publically known or rumored to exist superhero in Gotham City. He's a superhero fanboy nerd, it's kind of his thing. When he realizes he's done it, Eddie blushes furiously. "Sorry," he murmurs. "I'll chip in t-too," he offers about the food. He's got more money than he knows what to do with...but with him anything more than five dollars is more than he knows what to do with. Since coming to America, Olena's done a lot of things she's not particularly proud of, but has reconciled much of it as simply a means to survive. Consequently, her pride is a far more flexible thing than she'd like it to be. She'd like to listen to her pride and tell the woman she's fine. But her stomach says otherwise. And it's an excuse to get warm and dry and fed. She'll take it... Especially since, as finely as she can tell from reading Marissa's body language and observing the natural 'micro-tells' most people are physically incapable of hiding -- pulse rate, microbeads of sweat, that sort of thing -- there aren't any ulterior motives here. She inhales slowly, looking again, restelessly up and down the street -- more like she's keeping watch than like she's trying to escape. "That would be... good." A beat. "Kind. Thank you." She blinks some, however, as Eddie rattles off the list of heroes. Her brows rise. "Ot tse tak..." (Wow.) She peers at him. "You know... all superheroes in Gotham?" She gestures, circling her hand to indicate the city. "Here, too?" Her brows knit. Slowly. "X-Men. They live here?" Eddie rubs the back of his neck, blushing again. "I'm a fan. I r-r-read just about everything I c-can about all superheroes," he says. "The X-Men do show up in New York more than m-m-m-most other places but no one's really sure where exactly they're based," even if Eddie does have a really good idea these days. He did say he'd protect that secret with his life after all. Olena nods slowly to Marissa. She glances to Eddie as he echoes her information, her head canting slightly as she reads him. "Hmm." The sound is one of assent, not dismissal or thoughtfulness. "Okay. Is good to know." She doesn't move down the street, however, unsure of just where Marissa may wish to go to eat. Her eyes sweep the street again, however, in another alert scan. Marissa Sometimes starts heading down the street. Quite cheerfully, mind. "Yeah. They are seen here a fair bit." But if she did know where they were based, she wouldn't exactly tell a total stranger. "Why? Are you a fan?" she asks. Aha. Diner. Little hole in the wall diner. Probably the best one around...greasy spoons always have good food. Following along, Eddie smiles again. "M-most people act like the X-men aren't even real," he sounds a little sad about that. Shaking it off, Eddie glances around as they go. When they arrive at the diner, he's quick to hold the door open for the girls. Shoving her hands in her pockets once more, Olena shakes her head as she walks with the pair, now. "A fan?" She gives a non-committal shrug in response. "No. That is..." Her gaze bounces to the window of the greasy spoon, watching the reflections that play across it, "I met them, once. Some of them. I... wondered, is all." She knows they're real. She knows very well they're real. "They're real. But I don't blame them. Some things...kinda have to be done from the shadows." She's chosen the light...which has its advantages, but also its...restrictions. She heads into the diner, pushing back her hood as she does so. "Oh. I'm Marissa." "I know they're real. I've always known they're real deep d-down no matter what the news or internet said," Eddie confirms. He says it with such absolute faith and belief. Marissa's words remind him of what Nightcrawler said so he goes quiet. "I'm Eddie," he adds his own introduction. Olena shakes her head as she steps into the diner, letting her own hood fall back, though she doesn't actively push it down off her hair. "Natalia," she tells them, with regard to a name, deliberately choosing a Russian name, rather than a Ukrainian one. It's the name, actually, of one of the Russian competitors she recalls from the 2008 Olympics, not that it matters. She's learned that most Westerners can't tell the difference between Russian and Ukrainian (though to her way of thinking, they're very different), and she'd sooner not be sent back to her homeland. For once, Russia is preferable. Following Marissa to a table, she waits until the other two are seated before she slides in, refusing to be trapped against the wall. Marissa Sometimes makes note of the behavior. She's quite relaxed on the inside...she can always go OVER the table if she has to, after all. "So, you are Russian...no wonder you don't think it's that cold here. I hear the winters there are something else again." Eddie doesn't notice anything off about the name or even that it's Russian. He doesn't think much about names' origins. He does note the behaviour though, having acting the same in the past. "This is n-not a bad winter anyway. We've had worse ones." "Winters are very cold in Russia," Olena nods, "Da. Much snow. Ice. Wind." She flexes her reddened hands a little as the warmth of the little diner allows her blood to thaw just a little. As the waitress approaches to pass them menus, the girl takes a moment to evaluate the diner -- clocking exactly where the exits are relatively subtly, but obviously enough to anyone that's habitually had to do the same thing. Marissa Sometimes notices that too, but stays relaxed herself. "Simpler the better here. I honestly think I'm just going to have a grilled cheese sandwich." Always a safe bet in a place like this. "I think I'll get myself s-s-some fries," Eddie remarks idly after a quick 'thanks, ma'am!' to the waitress. He notices the exit checking and frowns, head tilted to the side. "What about you?" he asks Olena. Olena considers it a moment. "A sandwich," she says, offering another tight smile and gesturing to Marissa. "Like hers, please." She figures it's a safe bet -- and one her mother suggested back when she would travel abroad to shoot. If you order what your host does, you neither overspend nor are likely to stand out or offend. Plus, your host likely knows what's good. Marissa grins. "Got it." The waitress jots the order down then heads for the kitchen. "Okay, so..." She brushes back her hair. "I'd ask what brings you to New York, but..." She has a feeling that this girl is more flotsam, washed up on Manhattan by some wave she'd rather not speak about. It almost seems the refugees are everywhere here. Eddie falls silent as the waitress takes their orders. Watching Olena quietly, he smiles as Marissa trails off. "New York t-t-tends to just end up attracting people." Whatever the Americans may guess, the Ukrainian is smooth enough with her answer. It's neither rehearsed enough nor spontaneous enough to be a lie: "Hope for better life," Olena says with a mild shrug. She doesn't elaborate, however. Nor does she particularly smile. Her expression remains just a little too neutral to suggest she's found that better life. "Eh. I kinda got dumped here," Marissa admits. "Better lives take work, though, I've noticed. And a little bit of luck. And sometimes a bit of help from your friends." "I was born here," Eddie chimes in with a shrug. "Right! Work, luck, help, and n-never giving up hope. Keep at it and you'll get it eventually." Help from your friends. Yes. Hence Olena's quest to find some way to Gotham. She looks between the two at the table with her once more. A wry smile touches her lips and she gives an oblique nod to acknowledge their words. She's not entirely certain what to say in response, however, and torn about asking more questions of her own. If she asks more about them, they'll want to know more about her. Not so good. She plays with one of the glasses of water the waitress left for each of them, picking it up to take a small sip. Though her eyes skip through the restaurant once more, it's mainly habit while her brain sorts options. "I hope to see more of America," she finally offers. There's some truth to that. Marissa Sometimes hrms. "Just stay out of Arizona," she quips. "They don't like foreigners there." Given her accent, she might be joking...it could easily be her home state. Or she might not. "The south c-c-can be pretty unfriendly," Eddie agrees softly. If what he's read online is any indication anyway. "It's a b-big country to see. I've only been to New York, Gotham, and Metropolis so far," at least that's all he's free to talk about. "But there's s-s-so much more out there." "There is always more," Olena replies philosophically. That's what got her into trouble in the first place -- being able to perceive more. Again, a glance around the restaurant. "Do you come here before?" she asks now, redirecting the conversation slightly. Category:Logs Category:RPLogs